The Linnet's Song
by Ephemeral Winter
Summary: Akasuna no Sasori survived his battle. After enduring several embarrassing trials, he meets Tsukiko, the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. With his power slowly returning, Sasori bides his time before he can fulfill his plan.
1. Alive

_A wilted lotus dreams of spring,_

_and on her petals, a cruel sparrow_

_wipes his filthy feet_

**Chapter One: Alive**

The battles of old cast shadows in Sunagakure. Cities crumbled under his discriminating eye, trembled at his arrival, and fell at his superiority. For him, this was the cycle of life. He considered another time in his life when he might have felt compassion for those he conquered, and found nothing in his heart but disappointment. His feet sunk into the sand as he marched onward, disgusted by the lack of material. The wind picked up, carrying the sand and air heavy with heat, and he smiled to himself. His country had done him well.

Akasuna no Sasori was internationally feared for his poisons and puppets. With thousands of fallen shinobi in his wake, it was natural that his strength would become more fearsome than his hobby. He was a monster, a god among men, and the incarnation of immortality. Life beheld no sanctity and he derived delight from irony. His favorite battles were those in which his opponents were forced to fight their loved ones. He was truly a product of the times, the definition of a true shinobi, and donned the honor like a crown.

The years passed in such rushed succession and his mind became set. He had outgrown Sunagakure and the conservative honor of its deceased, preferring their bodies to rot sooner than preserving their jutsu. Blood spotted the floor, which he wore proudly on his arms like armor. Soon his latest prize would be added to his arsenal of hitokugutsu, human puppets. He was a benefactor, harnessing their power and using it to the beat of his superior intellect and stratagem.

He longed for the days of shinobi gods and was increasingly dissatisfied by the dregs that dared pollute the land. Sasori remembered the legends of conquering clans and their leaders, of mystical and awe-inspiring kekkei genkai, of otherworldly beauties… This world would sooner disappoint him. With Akatsuki, he could travel the world and find those worthy of his worktable. Unfortunately, it came at the price of returning to his place of birth. That point in his life was almost a haze, but being home brought out thoughts and emotions he could not recognize.

He was confronted by his past in an unprecedented battle. There was a lot of movement and noise. Sasori's opponents panicked as he outsmarted them, and he prepared to kill his kin. Though his poisoned blade missed his intended target, Sasori was able to outmaneuver them yet again. He scorned her stupidity and revealed a second blade. His movements were slow; why was he not at his full strength? Suddenly, he found himself embraced in his parent's arms.

No. That was not right…

He lost.

Chiyo looked at him with such misery. He stifled himself, finding the hollow anger engulf him. He was not a proud man; he knew when the battle was forfeit. After his defeat, he granted the stupid one information about Orochimaru. All of his puppets had been destroyed, his life's work and himself in ruins, fallen at his feet like ashes. He did not know whether to remain calm and rebuild his army, or to lash out and destroy everything in sight. The latter was tempting, but he had become much more docile in his old age. He was not certain why.

That battle forced humility down his throat. It exposed his weaknesses. Sasori never expected to see his grandmother again, let alone fight her. Seeing her again threw him off balance; he could not concentrate on winning, could not overcome the ghosts. And he lost everything…

…Everything except his real body.

The jutsu released itself in a flash of light and relief consumed him as he opened his eyes to his dusty, old workshop. Memories of his macabre hobby filled his mind like a surge of water. Soon he would be taking the elite and making better use of their bodies. Unfortunately, the lack of muscle use had taken its toll, the redhead discovered as he toppled forward. He fell face-first into the floor with a lack of grace so _beneath_ him. To his dismay, his muscles were no longer strong enough to sustain his weight. It took most of his strength to avoid the ground. He laid there with a smoldering scowl on his face, his arms aching.

Dozens of problems settled into his awareness as he glared into the wooden ceiling: He was dehydrated, starving, and lethargic. The puppeteer struggled to keep himself awake, cursing himself for not thinking _ahead_ of ahead. He never expected to have been defeated enough to have to return to his real body, much less have anyone there to care for him when or if he returned. To his disgust, his vocal chords were too weak to muster anything more than a whisper.

He had become what he resented most; a useless vessel. His hair was long, to boot. This day could have been worse. Then he realized how far he would have to travel to tend to his needs. His isolated nature led him to choosing areas of considerable distance from any village. Only the occasional traveler would venture in this area. He cursed his naivety and vowed to return to a marionette body as soon as possible.

His anger fueled him to mustering the strength to stand. Sasori's unused muscles burned with the sudden exertion and he tumbled hard against the walls and tables. Was a living body _this _disagreeable? He could no longer remember, but panted before exerting himself again. His grip was so weak that he could barely open the door. He fell through the barrier of genjutsu surrounding his workshop and onto the dirt. The effort had tired him beyond his strength and he lost consciousness.

He stirred to the afternoon sun beaming against his pale skin. His dull nerves tingled with what would be ache, but his mind was too dazed to register the influx of sensory information. He thought he heard footsteps on the nearby grass and a female call for help. Sasori was too tired to look and passed out again.

The puppeteer moved and regained consciousness to a much sounder state of mind. His thoughts collected more clearly and he noticed tubes coiling atop his body like springs. The ghastly white of the room, scent of disinfectants, and paper-thin sheets indicated to him that he was in a hospital. A quick scan of the area revealed that there were no chakra-users in the building. A male doctor informed him that he had been comatose for over a half a month. Sasori groaned mentally at this, cursing his body again.

He was most annoyed with his shaggy tresses and demanded to cut it. Sasori motioned the length he wanted and let the uncertain woman work. He looked in a mirror for the first time and let out an audible groan, discouraging his hairdresser. Though his cryogenic-freezing jutsu had worked, it had not worked as well as he hoped it would. He looked somewhere between his early to mid-twenties, and he had grown several inches as well. A quick measurement back at the hospital put him at 177 cm (5'10"). He had wondered why his appearance caught more positive attention than it should.

His cheekbones had become more prominent and his jaw grew more angled. Age did not suit his aesthetic, though he maintained some of his more youthful features. Sasori huffed, infuriated at this lack of finesse. To his advantage, he was a detail-oriented genius. He would need to redesign himself and rebuild what once was his. In the meantime, he would have a constant reminder of failure to motivate his recovery.

He built his strength at the hospital for the following months, working with various nurses and therapists he did not bother remembering. Sasori's body was gawky; it felt like he was learning to walk again. He scorned his body after reliving the various necessities he never missed, such as hunger, pain, and sitting on the "throne." Humans had such weak humor. After a few additional months, he looked almost normal, albeit scrawny and pale. It would be too long before he would regain his normal build, but he would rather die than remain in the shell for any longer.

He hoped to build his chakra capacity again to transfer to another body. He loathed his older appearance, being someone who treasured the stillness of time. He was 15 years old when he developed that jutsu and thought to have mastered it 21 years ago. He never imagined looking any older. He wanted solidity, stability, and the knowledge that he would live forever in the same image, unlike his parents…

Life was meaningless if there was no permanency. He never wanted to change; he desired preservation and the pleasure of being the paragon of what a shinobi _should_ become. This failure on his part made him resent himself. He made so many errors, all because he wanted to do the impossible. Shaking his head, he left that train of thought, focusing on his therapy. They had the nerve to patronize him. He longed for the day he could level these people under his might.

His doctor called him over and Sasori walked toward him with ease. The doctor was pleased by this, nodding his head. "You have made a lot of progress, but I've heard from the nurses that you have been attempting to practice ninjutsu?" Sasori's eyes snapped to him murderously, but the doctor was looking at his clipboard and did not notice. He exhaled through his nose, tempering his rage. "Unfortunately, this country has very few shinobi and our practices are not centered on therapy for chakra. However we do have someone in the mountains who may be able to help you."

According to the doctor, the woman was called Tsukiko and she had agreed to help him if he wanted. Sasori was not eager to spend time with anyone, especially an annoying, moody, self-centered female. Initially, his impulse was to decline, but he reconsidered. If the female could help with his chakra capacity and fine motor control, then it might be worth it. He had nothing to lose but time (which Sasori loathed). His impatient nature made its reappearance. He would have to learn to stifle his violent tendencies.

Sasori decided to go right away and managed to inform the staff that he would be visiting the female. The travel to her abode was hardly a challenge, having to merely follow the mountain trail…

When he arrived, the estate, a shrine, was comfortable and quaint, but somehow unfortunate. The issue was not with the abode, no... But that it was located not twenty feet from his workshop. He felt his blood boil with hatred, feeling violated by this pretentious woman. How dare she build her home near his refuge? This damnable broad would be the first to taste his poison. Violent urges ensconced him, though mysteriously vanished upon knocking on the door.

Before seeing the resident, he saw the grey interior of the home. It was a hollow place, which not even the contemporary furniture could fix. The white walls were unadorned, looming in their place like faceless monks. The whole ambiance of the home echoed of something akin to a cemetery. Quite unfortunate. Suddenly this offending woman did not seem so threatening to his privacy. Indeed, her life was probably as vast as her home.

The resident, however, was a bit of a surprise. At first glance, she was a quiet little bird amid the dormancy. She had gleaming, dark brown eyes similar to freshly overturned earth, and smooth, long black hair like ink. Her skin was a warm light shade, lips like cherry blossoms, and she had a presence as gentle as an autumn breeze. She smiled to him, glowing with acceptance and loyalty. She had an unusual and beautiful countenance that conjured other, darker emotions.

"You must be the nameless patient," she breathed. Her voice was particularly appetizing, too. It was smooth and soothing, and made him especially intrigued. Though his murderous mind welcomed her, she remained sunny, even spreading her arms as though inviting him into her life. "Welcome to my home."

Very unfortunate, indeed.


	2. Senses

**Chapter Two: Senses**

It was not often that Sasori was so gleefully invited inside a home. Even in his Sunagakure village, he was usually greeted by silence. Since the death of his parents, he had accustomed himself to quiet and stillness, to the maddening curse that pervaded his days.

Being inside the home was stranger than he expected. It was like being imprisoned in a sanitarium, like being observed for some alleged disorder. He glanced around a bit, finding nothing peculiar. That entrapping feeling only subsided when he remembered he was a guest.

Her welcome seemed foolish enough at the start. Why was this woman so excited to have him in her home? He figured she was a deprived hostess when she offered to prepare him a meal, but was alarmed when she handed him his original clothing, washed and folded.

"What the," he murmured, his voice straining, "why … how do you have this?"

She looked confused as well, "What?" He repeated his question, miffed. "Oh, well, the hospital gave them to me. They said this belonged to you." She raised the clothing to him, smiling. Sasori was still baffled and looked at her in suspicion.

Why would the hospital give her his clothing? He struggled to ask her, attempting to sound stern but sounding like a boy going through puberty, whispering in varying tones and pitches. His wavering voice and inability to speak with clarity did not register with the female. Instead, she nodded at his questions, clinging to every mustered syllable with an odd element of concern in her eyes.

"I don't believe we're on the same page," she spoke in a serious, yet gentle tone. "Let me start at the beginning; is that alright?" Sasori nodded impatiently, gritting his teeth. "I found you near here, 'here' being in the woods near the border to Kaze no Kuni. It's been over a month, but the hospital informed me that you awoke from your coma and that you were doing fine. They contacted me again and informed me that you were a shinobi and needed residence."

Sasori fought to keep his rage under control, reminding himself that he was not strong enough to massacre the village. Tsukiko sensed his murderous intent and chuckled nervously, "Ah, I guess that was not what you agreed to? I'm afraid this village doesn't like shinobi very much." For whatever reason, she looked even happier to spite his bloodlust, "Well, hey! We'll discuss your arrangements after dinner." Sasori tried to force his voice, but all that came out was a cough. "What are you hungry for?"

"Whatever," he responded venomously (he squeaked). Her sunny expression dropped and he fought the urge to rip off her beautiful face. He quickly banished that urge; art like that should be preserved and kept safe, not destroyed at whim.

Tsukiko led him to what might have been his room. It was a quiet room with a similar aura to the livingroom, yet unfurnished and lonely. Sasori exhaled with irritation and changed his hospital robes with his old clothing. The clothes were small on him, due to his growth. He failed to notice the detail due to his state health at the time. Recalling it, he cringed in embarrassment.

When he emerged from his room, Tsukiko noted his predicament. "Oh, dear," she mumbled, raising a finger to her lip. "Well, you're about the height of my other roommate. I'm sure my cousin wouldn't mind you borrowing some of his clothing. Oh! I forgot to mention. My cousin and friend live with me."

Other people. Even if he took up living with this female, he could not stand living with more than one person. Already, his quota of patience had drained. He was a solitary person and living with even one other person strained his tolerance and sanity.

"Who the hell is that?" Sasori looked in the direction of the voice, finding a male around his height with long brown hair, tied back, and green eyes. This one looked particularly bored, yet suspicious, unlike his trusting female roommate. Sasori observed him; his ability to appear without any indication was skillful and apparently effortless.

"Oh! Mamoru, this is the shinobi I rescued in the woods," she explained, grabbing Sasori and extending him toward her companion. Mamoru bowed in his direction, looking aside to his friend with an impassive expression.

Yama Mamoru finally glanced in Sasori's direction, "I see he's in need of clothing? I have some garb my father keeps sending me." Tsukiko looked at him in curiosity, "He wants me to increase my strength by training. Personally, I'm happy with what I can do now." Mamoru pivoted on his heel and headed down the hallway. Tsukiko followed him, explaining what happened with Sasori and the hospital.

"Oh?" His expression did not change. "Not surprising. This village hates shinobi; it's been destroyed by them too many times." Mamoru handed Sasori a bundle of clothing, setting a training uniform on the top.

After changing a second time, Sasori joined the two in the kitchen. His was annoyed with his circumstances. All of his plans had been thwarted or cancelled. All he needed from these people was treatment to expand his currently small chakra capacity. Mamoru spoke before him, "Is there a name I can add to your profile?" The puppeteer hesitated, considering his options.

He could lie, which was the wisest option, or he could tell them the truth and hope they did not recognize him from the bingo book. The latter was stupid and was more trouble than anything, but his mouth blurted it before he could think to lie: "Sasori." He cursed his dreary reasoning and impulses.

Tsukiko looked surprised while Mamoru only nodded. For a moment, her reaction triggered his killer instincts. Sasori was planning her death before she said, "I really like that name!" she smiled. "It suits you. Scorpions are very versatile creatures."

Sasori grimaced mentally, wondering if she was going to start flattering him regularly. Mamoru rolled his eyes, "You said the same thing about my name."

"Oh, so because I said the same thing, my compliment is automatically null?" Tsukiko huffed, elbowing him in the shoulder. "I try to be as honest as possible."

"That must be why you're being so social today, because you're being honest."

It took Sasori a moment to realize that Mamoru called Tsukiko a liar, and that he just witnessed a one-sided fight. Tsukiko only rolled her eyes at his remark, focusing her attention on Sasori, "I imagine you came to my home for a different reason. What was it you wanted?"

He was slow and unclear to speak, but she was rapt. Her deep eyes were fixed on his countenance, which unnerved him. Her black river of hair fanned over her right shoulder, stopping just below her breast. A macabre sort of lust began to resurface as he began to see she was more attractive than he initially realized. A beauty of her caliber was deserving of his worktable. "I hoped that you might be able to help me fix the problems with my chakra flow and capacity."

She smiled again, "I see. Mamoru could certainly help you with that." She glanced to her friend, a slight glint of plea in her eyes. Her friend rested his chin in his palm, glancing away. All of her good nature snapped away as her aura suddenly became coldly indifferent with a pinch of anger, "Are you kidding me?"

"What?" he drawled. "I don't want to help the scrawny bastard. Fix him yourself if you care so much." Mamoru hardly seemed interested in listening, let alone healing him. Tsukiko seemed offended. Sasori could not help but wonder when the fogginess would clear from his mind. Reading people was usually simple.

"You know I can't," she snapped, lip curling. "My iryouninjutsu is incomparable to yours."

"Yeah, I know."

"So help him!" Tsukiko had changed in a snap. Her voice was more demanding and stern. "He's been through a lot already. You're a trained iryounin and I know your abilities would render the best results to him and faster than anything I could muster."

"Yeah, I know."

The girl looked indignant, her lips pursing and fingers flexing, "Why won't you help him?"

"Too tedious, too much energy. Besides, _you_ want to help him. I couldn't care less what happened or happens to him." With that, he raised himself off his seat and retreated to his bedroom without another word, hands in his pockets. Sasori had an odd suspicion that Mamoru was fishing for compliments. Hardly what he needed in his vulnerable state.

Tsukiko smiled to him apologetically, "He's actually very loyal, but he tends to… Well, he's very arrogant sometimes." She wrung her hands in embarrassment, looking up to him through her bangs.

"I figured."

Mamoru returned, "Arrogant? Or maybe I'm just aware of how great I am." He agreed to show Tsukiko how to treat him, but would offer no other guidance. Sasori was very annoyed, indeed. Regardless, if he could have a room to himself, things would be fine. He needed a haven from others, a place to hide himself and reenergize.

The cousin arrived later in the evening, named Gekido Kyou. He was taller than Mamoru by at least three inches, and had short, messy black hair and grey eyes. He barged in and took no note of Sasori, only nodding as Tsukiko explained the puppeteer's plight.

"Yeah, cool. So he's staying?" He did not seem concerned. He merely ruffled her hair and chuckled as she said they would find out after dinner. "Pleasure to meet you," he finally said, bowing. Sasori bowed as courtesy, but observed the people as they adjusted to his presence.

Tsukiko smiled at Sasori, hugging her cousin as Kyou grinned, "Oi, Tsuki-chan. You know that one Ishikawa Nageki?" She confirmed it, a transparent curiosity in her tone. "He asked about you today."

She visibly perked at that, eyes widening in innocence, "Truly? What did he ask?"

"Not telling," Kyou said playfully, flashing her a crooked grin. "Guess you'll have to go tomorrow and ask." He slumped in his seat, relaxing. He stretched with an audible moan and yawned as Tsukiko pleaded with him to tell her. She finally gave up and sighed.

"Enough with the drama," Mamoru grumbled. "It's no secret Ishikawa-san is fond of Tsukiko." He stabbed his fried tofu with his chopsticks, placing it in his mouth with a notable grimace. The green-eyed shinobi glanced at her carefully with an ambiguous expression and dropped his gaze. The girl in question only stared blankly at her food.

"So," she began, beaming at Sasori, "what are your plans? Do you think you'll stay with us after all?"

Sasori turned his gaze to her and shrugged, "I suppose I have no choi-"

"That does it!" Mamoru snapped, standing abruptly and hitting the table with his fists. "_Damn_, that's annoying. Come here; I'm going to heal your stupid vocal folds for good." His constant whispering grated on the green-eyed man. As he raised his hand, filled with healing chakra, Sasori wondered how he would heal them. As the energy drifted into his throat, a certain change made his entire throat feel less dry and swollen, the intensity of which he never noted before. "Done. _Now_ speak."

It was redundant to speak without cause. Sasori raised his chin, looking at Mamoru with a clear annoyance. "Sasori-san," Tsukiko spoke up, tilting her head, "are you staying with us? And, how do you like dinner?"

She was clearly eager to hear his voice. Sasori felt no obligation to indulge her. "I suppose I have no other choice. Dinner is good, thank you." Her smile deepened and appeared warmer. The former Akatsuki member could not help but scorn her foolishness.


	3. Respiration

**Chapter Three: Respiration**

Sasori settled into his room. He did not have any notable amount of belongings or the transition would have been more complicated. The living quarters in this modest shrine were well spaced. He hardly noticed his roommates, though he swore to himself he would remedy that. He slept in peace, his futon much softer and warmer than the bed in the hospital. He planned to enter his workshop in the morning and clean. He was forced to start anew, something he never imagined.

When he finally roused himself that morning, he began his stretching and exercise regimen in his room. He refused to go back to toppling like a drunken fool, and refused to ever compromise his elegance again. Though he was able to walk, his gait was still clumsy. His fine motor skills were still nothing. He was, to say the least, frustrated with his progress thus far.

Once finished, he headed out to the kitchen. His hunger seemed insatiable.

Tsukiko was there, an early riser, though apparently not by choice. Her head was bobbing, dark circles forming under her eyes. She curled into herself with the coolness of the morning, sipping a hot cup of tea. She finally noticed him come in and smiled, "Ohayou, Sasori-san. How are you?"

Sasori hated pleasantries, but decided to indulge her. She had not awoken well. "It's alright, though," she grinned. "I'm drinking tea from the sacred tree in the garden. It is said that this particular tree's leaves are good for women's health." She then told him about the shrine's short history. A miko had come about here and said that this land held mystical powers. Sasori felt like laughing; the only otherworldly power present was _him_.

"Anyway, Kyou and I took over it after we left our family. It was abandoned for three years and I really liked it. Mamoru came with us a few months later. Oh! I should warn you, the superstitious-sounding miko was right about this bit of land. You have kitsune, kappa, and tanuki here from time to time, ever since last year." She was cute, believing in all of that.

The men finally awoke, Kyou looking particularly graceless, shirt askew and hair pointing in every direction. He plopped down in the chair, waving his hand lazily to greet everyone good morning. He yawned, to which Mamoru rolled his eyes.

"So, about your family," Sasori began with a shrewd smile, "why did you move? You can't be more than sixteen."

Tsukiko perked and laughed, "Sasori-san, I'm eighteen. And it's complicated, right Kyou?" She shrugged and Kyou agreed.

"Oi, Mamoru," he said, irking the man. "Tsukiko's a little sick, see? I think some soup would help that." Tsukiko thanked him for worrying about her, but said that it was not necessary. Kyou would not have it. "Nonsense! I insist!" Kyou opened the pantry and obtained a red can of some type of herb. "I'm no good at this sort of thing," he mumbled. "You do the honors, Mamoru."

He tossed the can to an annoyed Mamoru, who caught it with ease. He opened it and the lid flew to the ceiling with a loud _pop!_ A thousand black moths flew out of the can like a sudden gust of wind. Mamoru stood bewildered before fury fully ruled his expression. "_Bastard_!"

Before long, the iryounin was chasing the laughing prankster throughout the shrine. Sasori rolled his eyes at the noise. He would not be wasting his time with these dregs were he at his full power.

Still flushed from a few hours before, Mamoru joined Tsukiko and Sasori in the garden. The garden was quaint and peaceful, adorned with flowers of all kinds and the so-called sacred tree. If Sasori were pleased with any part of the estate, it would be this. His senses were catching up to the change in scenery. He most appreciated the scent of lilacs.

Tsukiko and Sasori were seated near the pond, waiting for the iryounin's lesson. As Mamoru instructed Tsukiko on the specifics of the healing process, Sasori could not help but wonder why a shinobi that always complained about _tedious_ tasks would take a _tedious_ path to healing. Mamoru was clearly skilled and powerful. It would be much quicker if he healed the puppeteer.

Then again, there were perks to this roundabout healing. Tsukiko had to make physical contact with him. Her skin was soft and warm, placed atop his shoulders as she healed that area of his chakra meridian system. Mamoru had to correct her chakra output and control as she tried. The process was quite delicate and she could potentially overstimulate Sasori's weakened nervous system.

She tried in calculated bursts, concentrating hard as Mamoru guided her. She offered her patient a smile as he eased, her lovely silk locks brushing his skin. As soon as he regained his fine muscle control, he would have that beauty for himself. She was at least seven inches shorter than he was, and it amused Sasori. Just as she finished, there was a disturbance.

"Ohayou, Mamoru-san," said a man coming through the back doors. "Kyou-san let me through. Is Tsukiko-san here?" Tsukiko squeaked, her small body tensing as she hid placed her hands to her side. Mamoru looked to her and shrugged, rousing and leaving without a word. "Ah, Tsukiko-san," the man grinned, blushing. "Ohayou. How are you?"

"Fine, Nageki-san" she said in a high-pitched tone. "How are you?" Sasori examined the male.

He was quite handsome, though shorter than Sasori. He had black hair and blue eyes, and a kind face. He was also built, an athlete, and the scars indicated he was a shinobi. When he and Tsukiko neared one another, there was an obvious attraction. Sasori became wary, wondering if this man could sense his true nature.

The two lovebirds could hardly look away, though Tsukiko was the more hesitant of the two. She shrunk into herself with each passing minute. The pervasive warmth she felt with him only added to her disconcertment and fear. Something in her stomach churned, even as she felt she could share everything with the man before her.

In the following days, Sasori and Tsukiko spent more time together through their healing sessions. She became weaker by the day, but maintained a sense of beauty he could not help but desire. Her hair was glossy, flowing with ease in each slight breeze. She had shrunk into herself more.

"Maybe you should flaunt your beauty more," Sasori suggested, a sultry tone in his voice. Tsukiko tensed, her hands shaking. Was she insecure about her appearance? Women secure about their appearance tended to indulge in the rewards of other's sexual interest. Given her healing efforts, she was a hard worker. While she was not Mamoru's caliber, she could hold her own.

Given that Tsukiko was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, it was interesting to see her tense at the idea of her flaunting her appearance. What did she have to be afraid of? Sasori's reptilian smile made its reappearance, "Didn't your mother ever tell you you're beautiful?"

Tsukiko stood up suddenly and dismissed herself, not sounding warm or inviting as she usually did. She walked away, huddling into herself. Sasori smiled wider. His intuition returned in increments.

Later that night, Sasori heard Kyou talking in a serious tone. It was so foreign he thought it was another man in Tsukiko's room. Kyou held her closely, telling her about her "options" with Nageki. Tsukiko could only stare into the wall, appearing moribund. She curled herself into a defensive ball, rocking herself as her cousin tried his best to comfort her. The former Suna shinobi's lips stretched into a smile.


	4. REM

**Chapter Four: R.E.M.**

Sasori was still not accustomed to the patterns of a living, breathing body. He had lived a majority of his life in an animated weapon in his previous image, so this was still a major adjustment for him. He felt uncomfortable in his own skin and his stomach sank with every glimpse of his reflection. As his nerves regenerated, his body panicked with each new sensation.

The senses of touch and temperature were still alien to him. Things felt uncomfortable and strange. The feeling of the hardwood and carpet beneath him made him feel cold and irritable. He found himself automatically annoyed and frustrated with his new needs. Each movement required thought. It renewed his hatred of living organisms, considering the complexity a hindrance. At his workshop, he fumbled with his motor skills, finding many of the movements he would find simple grating. His gait still needed improving and his foot movements were still maladroit.

At this point, he was incapable of working with his hands. He stared at them, astonished by the imperfections and largeness. The Suna shinobi curled his fingers with effort, gritting his teeth as he struggled with maintaining a fist. He inhaled, closing his eyes. He could not focus on what he wanted and this body was useless if it could not perform. He feared he might be trapped forever, cursed in this ephemeral body.

He stared at the weapons and equipment he had hidden in walls. He tried to produce chakra to control them, but nothing came out. Sasori closed his eyes as he wondered whether he had lost his ninjutsu abilities. He was still so unfamiliar with his physiology and lurched at the thought. Finally, he recognized the sensation. At least he still had the potential.

Tsukiko's health improved the following morning. She was quiet at breakfast, drinking her tea in tiny sips, small hands clasped around the cup. Mamoru and Kyou discussed something in silence as Sasori entered the room, and Mamoru began preparing something in the kitchen.

Before long, Mamoru served Tsukiko tea, misshapen bread, and soup. "Tsukiko, what are you doing? Why are you letting your health go like this?" he scolded. He inched her food closer to her. It was a valiant attempt, however his cooking skills were hardly comparable to his iryouninjutsu. Tsukiko smiled and began eating.

"The tree…" she murmured, but drifted. Mamoru nodded, saying that some of the leaves were from the sacred tree. He said that she will eat the soup at night as well, and that the added warmth in her body will help with her insomnia. Tsukiko seemed to come back from her odd haze. "I had a strange dream... It was dark and warm, but I felt trapped. Then I felt something kick in my stomach…" She placed a gentle hand on her abdomen, and Mamoru was visibly disturbed for her.

The quiet in the shrine seemed to reach a deafening height. The strange emotion surrounding the area stirred Sasori's mind in a way that he could not quite comprehend. Something abnormal writhing in the silence made it unbearable to stay in the house for too long. He rejected the isolation that he so desired, drifting unsteadily through the halls.

Tsukiko fought through her weariness and continued Sasori's healing ritual. Her exhaustive efforts were ruining her appearance and draining her vitality. Yet she was still more beautiful than Sasori had ever imagined possible. "You have very beautiful skin." Tsukiko thanked him, focusing energy in the tenketsu on his upper arms. He stayed perfectly still through the ordeal, despite that it felt prickly.

Nageki joined them, beaming at Tsukiko and asking many questions. Tsukiko's attitude changed for the better, cheering up a little as he talked to her.

Sasori had to hand it to the blue-eyed shinobi. He was very charming. Sasori had to feign every emotion in his acts. Nageki sat next to her, attention focused and his smile contagious. Tsukiko fought against herself to smile back, managing a few awkward, but sincere giggles when he talked about something that happened on the way.

"You always look so graceful," the blue-eyed man smiled. "I admire you a lot, I'm sure you've noticed. I hope I'm not imposing, but I would truly enjoy it if you joined me for dinner when you get better." He placed his hand atop hers, applying a tender pressure.

Sasori found their interactions interesting. He enjoyed himself in the verdant scenery, reveling in the simplicity of sensation. He monitored her in the distance, noting apprehension and longing. It was plain to him that the love birds had mutual feelings. "I'll think about it, Nageki-san. Thank you so much for the invitation."

Nageki was crestfallen, but kept his spirits up with a smile. "You're a special person to me. I hope you say yes."

The disturbed darkness surrounding her engulfed her as he left. Sasori was miffed. He could not have Tsukiko away from him, so he had to discourage her. "I would miss you, you know." Tsukiko nodded and smiled grimly, thanking him.

Kyou was in the kitchen that night, heating up the leftover soup from the morning for his cousin. A white moth fluttered into the room and straight into the fire. Kyou was not pleased, putting out the moth's smoldering remains. He served Tsukiko in a small bowl as she hunched over, exhausted. He told her to eat and then go rest.

"Also, I heard Nageki finally asked you out and you didn't exactly say _yes_," Kyou muttered, eyes purposefully expanded. "Look, Tsukiko. I know you like him, so why act like you don't? What are you waiting for?"

Tsukiko sighed, sipping her soup. "I'll join him on casual outings if it means that much to you. I just don't _feel_ ready." She stayed in a state of repetitive motion for a time, only sipping her soup. Finally she finished and walked to the windowsill. Sasori, curious as ever, walked to her.

She had hot, salty tears rolling down her rosy cheeks. Try as he might, he could not help himself. He had to wipe those small imperfections from her beautiful visage. She flinched and smiled to him, those aching emotions making way for this small consideration. He gently pulled her hair back behind her ear and let his hand glide through it. As her doll-like face stared forth, something changed in the way she looked at him.

"Thank you, Sasori," she smiled. "Thank you for caring. You're a good friend." She squeezed his hand, smiling she ducked her head. "I should go rest. Thank you again. Good night." She raised herself from her seat and walked to her room. His slow acting poison would take effect soon.

Sasori snuck away to his workshop to continue working on himself. He decided that his first project would be Tsukiko, so he needed to improve and retrain his body for his art. Today's session helped the aching in his fingers, or as Tsukiko said, "The joints between your metacarpals and proximal phalanges." Such a strange girl; she _sometimes_ had a brain.

He breathed, stretching his muscles to aid in his movement. Sasori drifted into a primitive fighting stance and struggled to keep his balance. After wavering, he was able to will himself into balance, keeping his burning muscles still. The sunanin drifted between forms as he fought his unsteady equilibrium. He refused to continue struggling with such primitive motions. He outstretched his arms, palms up, and tried to focus his chakra.

He struggled, remaining still in his pose and he tried to force his chakra outward. It was finally moving through his system, able to slowly be manipulated, but he needed this quicker. He tensed his arms and focused harder. His muscles stung under the exertion, shaking and uncontrollable and in pain. Sasori was frustrated and angry. He could not remain this helpless shell any longer.

With the pain in his body intensifying, he maintained himself, though yelled into the night. His arms felt as though they were being mangled and cut, and then it happened-a blue burst of chakra escaped his hands.

The puppeteer collapsed onto his dusty floor, sweating and trembling in the following ache. When he caught his breath, he bore his teeth in sweet delight.


	5. Retina

**Chapter Five: Retina**

Sasori was awoken to a rather annoying tune. His body ached from the previous night's exertion and he wanted to sleep. Soreness was among the more grating sensations the _miracle_ of senses bestowed on him. He tensed in his futon and riled to find the comfort that so swiftly slipped away from him. Still, the intolerable noise pervaded and infested his peaceful slumber. Indignant, he forced himself to his feet and marched onward to the noise.

As he entered the living area, Tsukiko was perfecting her tone, a natural soprano. She was working on the lyrics and the pace of the song. The girl was not an _awful_ singer, just not great. It appeared that she grew tolerant of the 10% poison he had been slipping into her tea in a remarkable amount of time. The vitality that had added distress to her visage had vanished. She noticed his presence and smiled against his rage. "Good morning! Did you sleep well?"

The shinobi had a long, explicit tirade to answer her question, but abided her inclination for stupid questions. "Good morning. I apologize for my demeanor; I had a hard time sleeping." He was bewildered by her constant beaming. Was it possible to maintain this level of cheerfulness? Was it even healthy? The girl kept on with her expression, leading into a tedious conversation about some lost puppy after which she pined.

"I found him along the path. He was so smart and had a sweet disposition." _Oh, please. Do go on_, he bemoaned. "I had a doggy just like him once…" She was leading into another pointless thought, but paused as her face grew desperate. She cleared her throat, "Anyway… I took the stray to the clinic to be treated for his mange. It's clinical name is demodicosis, caused by the Demodex mite. It can be found on humans as well, but it's not commonly as harmful. My professor always said that your mother didn't love you if you don't have the parasite."

Sasori had to laugh, managing to make it sound like a chuckle, "Do you always do this? Now I have to shower for days."

"But don't worry, it's usually found beneath the first layer of skin." _Yes, that's quite comforting_, he thought. It was _clearly_ another miracle of human biology. Tsukiko was trying to be comforting, but only managed to increase Sasori's hatred of being in a living body. "And, I'm sorry; I sometimes do that. Biology has become a passion of mine."

"Thanks, that's quite comforting." He was becoming talented at disguising his biting comments. He reached to her hand and gave it a squeeze. Tsukiko hid her friendly protest well, deciding to tolerate this infringement of her boundaries. "So, you study mange?"

She beamed at him more, "Actually, I want to be a veterinarian. It's been my dream since I was a child. I just took my clinical pathology course and I'm eager to continue with my studies."

"You actually enjoy studying about parasites?"

"I love studying in general. And why not? If I have appreciation for their behaviors and abilities, I'm all the more capable of treating my patients." Sasori stared into this youthful, bright visage. Sure, she was beautiful, but his tastes insisted on her distressed look. As she spoke, he ran his fingers through her hair, relishing the cool, smooth texture.

"Why not a human doctor? I'm sure with your appearance and personality, you would make an excellent practitioner." At that, she took a step back from him, pulling her locks behind her ear. She shifted in her dress, crossing her arms in the chill of the morning.

"I'm afraid I don't like people all that much. I guess I could manage, but it's really not my natural inclination." She giggled, "Well, I suppose that I tend to compensate quite well. You seem comfortable, unless I'm wrong."

"You're not wrong. I would like a little more time with my gracious, beautiful nurse, though."

"Oh, Sasori. You're too kind." She bounced over to him, offering her arm, "Shall we begin our healing ritual?"

She managed to make it to a rendezvous with Nageki, however failed to feel much better with the accomplishment. Tsukiko clutched her abdomen, feeling tense and colder with each passing day. She wondered why she felt this way at all. Why were her thoughts turning to _that_ now? Why now that she had a chance to be happy?

Those thoughts seemed to fuel the illness, her insides feeling inflamed. She hunched over and curled herself into a ball. Suddenly the world seemed vast and empty, and that old sense of loneliness returned to ensconce her in that worn sheet. Everything seemed hopeless, and her endeavors seemed more meaningless than ever. She buried her head in her knees, clutching her legs.

"Tsukiko!" Nageki called, racing up to her with a bright smile. She looked to him from under her arm. Those blue eyes and smile, why did they always make her want to try harder?

She stood with him and he took her hand. It surprised her, but more than that, she was amazed that she felt no disgust or shame for it. She held his hand gently, still gauging how much she could abide. Yes, this was enough for now. For at least this hour, she would be happy.

Her mood was lifted, but her physical condition had only temporarily improved. She returned home and those same abdominal discomforts resumed. She took Sasori's forearms to treat the chakra meridian system and tenketsu points for the second time. She still had a ways to go as far as healing, however her current progress was garnering promising results.

Sasori had other ideas.

Sasori had witnessed Nageki hold her hand and was smoldering with envy. Those beautiful, delicate limbs had no place in the brute hands of a lesser shinobi. Until now, he had only been toying with a few ideas. This woman had no place in his arsenal of elite shinobi; a beauty of this caliber had to be an exception. He was still undecided, however.

He enlaced his fingers in hers and watched her expression. She was alarmed at first and looked to him in question, innocent eyes searching for answers in his. While he hardly established his purpose, she seemed to understand what it was about and smiled meekly, bowing her head and blushing.

"Sasori-san," she mumbled, "I appreciate your feelings, but-"

"OI! OI! Hands off my cousin!" Kyou stormed through the garden, seething. The maiden and the puppeteer were no longer in contact, but Kyou was far more preoccupied with his cousin's blushing. "How was your date with Nageki?"

Remembering him, Tsukiko smiled, "It was a lot of fun. He's a very interesting person to talk to." Kyou glowed. For all that happened to Tsukiko, Nageki was probably the best. Mamoru joined them outside, cheeks reddened. He was petulant with a deepened scowl directed at Sasori.

Kyou asked Tsukiko to join her in the kitchen for a cooking lesson. She was not adept with cooking, but she was decent enough. Sasori observed that her spirit flowed when she was with Kyou, smiling and being sarcastic. Her soup turned out fine, but her dessert was delectable.

Tsukiko herself felt at ease, despite her physical state. Kyou was hopeless in the kitchen when it came to making things from scratch. Tsukiko liked making breads and pastries, so when she made some today, Kyou was in "awe." He could not wait to taste the result, eagerly watching the last ten minutes of the sweet breads in the oven.

"Look, Tsuki!" Kyou said, pointing to the red velvet cupcake in the oven. "That one looks like you a few minutes ago!"

"Kyou-kun!" she squeaked, putting her hands on her hips. "Hush up. As I recall, I've made you look that red myself, our _first_ spar when I was _eight._" Kyou made a face and backed down, mimicking her in such a way that he looked possessed. Tsukiko laughed and smacked him in the shoulder.

Mamoru was less enthusiastic, calmly sipping some green tea in his private corner. Kyou tried to talk with him earlier, but Mamoru was hardly in the mood. He was glaring at Sasori on occasion, but kept to himself. He frowned into his cup, sighing into his reflection as he took another sip.

"Mamoru," Tsukiko smiled, walking over to him, "are you alright? Have some bread, please. You were so kind to take care of me the other day." She sat down in front of him, hand peacefully atop his. She closed her eyes. "You've always been there for me. You're a really good friend." Mamoru calmed himself, his expression relaxing as he looked to her.

"You're running a fever and your throat is getting scratchy. You'll be coughing soon. Head to your room, okay? I'll brew you some tea." Tsukiko seemed crestfallen, but nodded.

Later that night, Tsukiko's condition worsened. Kyou was next to her for a while, reassuring her that it was only a fever alongside Mamoru. She was in a white nightgown and paler than ever, feeling too much discomfort to move. Kyou chuckled darkly, "You look like a corpse. Get better soon, please." He turned to Mamoru, "Please help her get better?"

Mamoru smiled slightly and nodded. Kyou left.

"The nightmares have been getting worse," she mumbled, anxious. "It's been a long time since I have had nightmares of this sort. I feel like I'm being swallowed and drained by some _parasite_. It's terrifying to me. I really feel like I would kill myself if I ever-"

"You realize you're safe, don't you? Kyou and I would never let anything bad happen to you." Tsukiko's mind calmed with his tone. It was so soothing and tranquil that the overpowering memories and pains in her abdomen disappeared. She felt Mamoru's hot palm on her abdomen, healing the source. Before she could register much else, she fell asleep.

Mamoru snuck outside her room, careful to make as little noise as possible. Kyou confronted Mamoru with a scowl. "What are you doing? I'm sorry this is the way it turned out for you, but you need to respect her and give her the space she needs."

"Kyou," Mamoru said as he furrowed his brows, "you're right. I realize that my behavior is becoming more intrusive and that she has developed feelings for someone else. I have already decided that I will be leaving. Today has been a clear indication."

Kyou inhaled and sighed, nodding. Mamoru had made preparations and already moved a majority of his things. "Tell her that I care about her-…" he stopped himself, closing his eyes and breathing. "Actually, make something up. Make me sound cool."


	6. Hemangioma

**Chapter Six: Hemangioma**

He had stayed too long at his workshop and dawn was rising in protest. The puppeteer crawled through the window to his room, blood rushing at the thought of being caught. He scrambled inside, wanting to continue the charade. His speed was still redeveloping and he underestimated his momentum, slipping and flipping forward over his futon and hitting his head hard against the corner of the wall with a loud _crack!_

"Sasori?" Tsukiko's voice chirped in the hallway. Her steps resonated through the empty space and she opened the door, looking concerned as his vision was tinted red and doubled. She rushed to his side as her dress swept behind her, kneeling before him to look closer at his bloody wound. She smelled of lotuses, a scent he had craved.

"Oh! What happened? You hit an artery." Blood was propelled in intervals, Sasori's head spinning with the trauma. She tore the end of her dress to a thick strip, dabbing it against the wound and making it icy with a small jutsu. "I know this seems weird, but it's to clean it and encourage coagulation. The cold is to stimulate vasoconstriction so that blood flow is limited. We'll clean it with hydrogen peroxide as soon as it stops. But you hit your head hard, right?"

He regained his poise, admiring the tiny streams of blood adorning her face and clothes like paint thrown on a canvas. He played the part of the designated idiot, grinning to her, "I was looking forward to treating you to breakfast in bed. I really wanted to surprise you."

"Well, I am surprised," she laughed. Tsukiko helped him to his feet, chortling at the streaks of blood against the white wall. "Wow, it looks like someone died in here. Let's get that bleeding down. It's good that you're talking." She centered chakra to her fingertip and focused it to create a small light. She passed it between both of his eyes, "Well, your pupils are fine. You don't feel queasy or in pain?"

"No, actually. I'm glad I'm in good hands."

"Well, I learned from the best. We should get Mamoru to look at you." She placed his arm over her neck and shoulders, steadying him as he helped himself to his feet. They walked together to the living area where Kyou was preparing himself to go to work.

"Holy hell, what'd you do to him, Tsuki?" the older male gaped in disbelief. Tsukiko frowned at him, explaining what happened and that they needed to see Mamoru. "Oh, well, that makes more sense. I wanted to talk to you about this, actually. Mamoru left last night because his father had an, um… infartion."

"That's _infarction, _Kyou. And _what_? That's terrible." Tsukiko shifted to secure the man's weight. "Oh, well. Sorry, Sasori. I guess you're stuck with me as a doctor. Just don't kill me if I mess up." She set him down on his knees and prepared her healing chakra. She had encouraged the clotting and relieved the pressure in his head. Once he said he felt fine, she roused him to his feet. "Stay by me for the rest of the day, okay? I need to observe you to make sure you don't have any concussion symptoms. Let's clean you up."

They both left to clean up and have a change of clothes. He watched himself in the foggy mirror as the blood dried and crusted at the ends, hot water droning behind him into the tub. He felt content with this twisted war paint, but suppressed an oncoming thought as he noted his resemblance to his father. Sasori was struck by this and wiped away the blood, almost in disbelief of this biological expression.

He looked away.

The small, pedantic village was named after a war hero but could not live up to its self-proposed expectations. The buildings were attached and showing their age, chipping and in desperate need of a modern touch. Most of the villagers consisted of those in the older age bracket, a town for those who did not feel comfortable with change. There were few shinobi and they mainly functioned as law enforcement, but were generally disliked.

Tsukiko was disenchanted with her dress ruined and invited Sasori along to the town to purchase a new one. She was picturesque, a beautiful doll-like woman. Her hair swayed in the breeze and the scenery seemed to morph to her. He was hungry to touch and perfect her at his whim, losing the quota of patience he had for this project.

The villagers were not blind to her beauty, marveling and flirting with her. Two asked about her current marital status and whether she would be interested in their sons. The questions were uncomfortable to her, stating with care, "I really want to go to med school."

Sasori looked to her in interest as the statement made no ripple in the people's pursuits. Some went as far as to ask when she was planning on "starting a family," which seemed above all painful for the young woman. She politely excused herself from the prodding acquaintances, eager to escape their sickening curiosity about her sex life.

They entered the little boutique. Sasori was overwhelmed with the smell of incense and ginger. The clothing was nothing special, but the older woman was fond of the young beauty at his side. They exchanged small pleasantries as Sasori noticed their slight reflection in the window behind them. When the question was brought up again, Tsukiko touched her lips in anxiety and tried to respond with decorum.

Even though he recognized her beauty, he did not understand the obsession with contracting a parasite to make her gain weight and stretch marks. He decided to act as the hero, sick of watching her contort her face. "She's barely eighteen," Sasori interrupted as he crossed his arms; "Tsukiko should be focused on her career. You should mind your own business."

Even as the conversation ceased, Tsukiko was tormented by the questions, growing more distressed as the subject hung in the air. She shook, her breathing becoming erratic as she delved into a panic attack. Sasori glared at the meddling storekeeper as he helped the girl out of the store. He aided Tsukiko to a bench out of the main square. She was still in her stressed possession, trembling from the onslaught._ How fascinating_, he thought, fighting a smile.

"Hey, Tsukiko," Sasori murmured with as much gentleness as he could muster. "Look at me." After a moment, she obliged. "It's okay. They won't bother you anymore." He squeezed her hand and forced himself to beam. "It'll be okay. Come on, won't you smile for me?"

She exhaled sharply and was able to work through the panic. "I'm s-sorry. It's just… I'm sorry, it's silly." The black-haired beauty bowed her head in shame, still breathing erratically.

"Clearly not if you react this way. Come now, you can tell me anything." He stood up and helped her to her feet. "Why don't we go somewhere more private? And Tsukiko," she looked up to him, "it's not silly to _you_; that's what matters to me."

They walked to the public garden on the outskirts of the village center. There were manmade waterfalls and flowers everywhere, and shrubs cut into well-maintained spheres. The scenery eased the girl at his side as the sound of flowing water reached her. She relaxed in the breeze as it tangled in her hair, taking in the aroma of the flora as she settled herself near a mirror-like pond. With a strange resentment, she gazed at the pink lotus floating in the water.

"I have a phobia of pregnancy," she said after a moment. "I always have. I never felt that I wanted a family and even now, I don't like children. They're… I don't know. They can be cruel without conscience. You can't teach empathy and it's scary to see such unfiltered sociopathic behavior."

"I can see why," he said with a shrug. Sasori grinned behind her, keeping his tone steady and with just the right amount of compassion. His intuition powered through, "Is that why you don't want to be around Nageki?"

"Well… We haven't discussed anything. It's too soon, but," she breathed, "he really likes children. I see them and all I see are little sociopaths. He looks at them and sees what everyone else sees." She smiled back to him, but the nature of it changed. "I'm sorry. I bet I've muddled your view of me."

"Not at all. We have this child thing in common."

He was enjoying his manipulation of her and the psychological scars to come. Even as these dark clouds rolled over her future, she remained unaware and vulnerable. He was enthralled as he imagined her a statue to his grotesque museum, bending to his will as a catalyst for his second advent.

Tsukiko looked reassured as she hummed and watched her favorite flower and her distorted reflection.

They returned home and Kyou had just returned from work as well. He greeted them and paused when he saw Tsukiko. The room electrified with the meeting of their gazes, Kyou straightening and demonstrating his capacity for leadership. "Sasori-san, would you mind giving us a moment, please?" Sasori shrugged and complied without protest.

"Tsuki?" Kyou motioned her to sit with him, transitioning into his kindhearted demeanor with measure. He studied her as she joined him, "What's wrong?"

"Same old," she explained with trembling lips. "Sasori-san helped me through it, though. I feel better now." Kyou exhaled through his nose, pursing his lips as his cousin continued to tremble. He reached to her and held her close, his expression faltering outside of her view. His heart wrung in the torrent of memories and feigned bravery.

"When are you going to tell Nageki?" Kyou felt her stiffen and fight the urge to cry.

"I don't know if I will. Is it really such a sure thing with him?"

"He's different, Tsuki. I feel like he'll be good for you in ways s_he_ never-..." Tsukiko gasped inaudibly, gripping her cousin's shoulders as that familiar pang in her heart made its return. It had been a long time since she had thought about that. She was older now and had grown an appreciation for Kyou's sacrifices those years ago.

"It's kind of a big deal, though. Is he going to respect it? Is he going to negate _his_ dreams to accommodate me? I feel like it's so much to ask."

Kyou shrugged grimly, eyes downcast, "There's only one way to find out."

Sure enough, Nageki arrived later that evening. He knocked on the front door, anxious as he shifted his weight from one leg to the other, hands fumbling to find his pockets. Every moment felt like an hour, his heart pumping brutally in his chest. Kyou opened the door with a surprised look on his face and greeted the shinobi.

"Kyou-san," he bowed. "I'm sorry for bothering you so late, I just heard Tsukiko-san had a panic attack earlier today. Is she alright?"

Kyou fought against a pleased smile, maintaining an unflappable expression, "She is fine now. Would you like to come in and see her?"

"Yes, please. Thank you." Kyou stepped aside and allowed Nageki into their home. As he came in, a strange red envelope drifted in to the estate. Confused about the direct mail delivery, Kyou picked it up as Nageki rushed to Tsukiko's room.

"Hey!" Kyou called after him, "Leave the door open!"

Tsukiko answered her door in a tizzy, nervous to see Nageki. He stood at her doorway and they both were engulfed with excitement, though neither showed it. "Tsukiko-san," he addressed as he bowed, "is everything alright? I heard about what happened in the village today."

"I'm fine now," she said as she motioned him to come in. They sat on her bed and he took her hands in his. She blinked with his fluster, giggling at both his go-to decorum and his attempts to respect her wishes. She admired his strength and warmth as he gripped her hands. "Thank you for coming to see me anyway." He nodded with a smile.

"Hey, what was it about anyway? Did anyone in the village bother you?" He looked like he had someone in mind, but she shook her head.

"It was a couple of people, but especially the older woman who owns the boutique. I guess I'm now of marrying and ch-…child-bearing age, so if I don't do either _right now_, I have failed as a woman. Or something, I don't know."

Nageki nodded and proceeded with care, "And… that made you panic?"

"…Y-yeah," Tsukiko finally admitted. Her heart swelled in apprehension, preparing herself for the blather of truth. "I'm not against marriage or anything but I have a phobia of pregnancy and birth; it's called tokophobia. It doesn't bother me in animals, but human pregnant women and babies make me nervous. It doesn't help that I've never liked them anyway."

Nageki only laughed, though now had more of an idea of what was going on. "Yeah, I know what you mean. My mother was a pain when she was pregnant with my sister." He hoped that conveyed enough as her eyes brightened to him in confusion and hope. He smiled and wrapped his arms around her, "I'm sorry people don't mind their own business." She breathed in liberation and returned the embrace.

Kyou interrupted bashfully with a light knock, "Hey, I'm sorry. Tsukiko, there's this letter for you. I'll leave it here." He placed it on her desk. Though it was unintended, the interruption was a sobering reminder of the boundaries they both needed to respect. Nageki expressed his relief for her well-being and bid farewell.

After Nageki left, Tsukiko took the red envelope and opened it. Scrawled on it was a simple message: "STAY AWAY FROM HIM!" Her heart dropped, confused at the bizarre demand. She pursed her lips as she felt a bad premonition ensconce her. She looked out of her window, unable to see anyone lurking, yet feeling quite watched.

Under the guise of night, Sasori broke into the older woman's home with a peculiar emotion bubbling in his stomach. He was devious, prowling in the shadows as she prepared herself to sleep. The shopkeeper was off her guard, feeling safe and pleased with herself as she tucked her grandchildren away for the night. Sasori felt thrilled with her ignorance, his appetite insatiable for the coming surprise.

When it was safe, he slipped into her room. It was dark and promising, though the creak in the door was enough to alert her. She called to her grandchild, though silence met her query. She saw nothing in her weary eyes and nestled into her futon. She reminded him of Chiyo with those sagging eyes, so old and decrepit. Rage consumed him with the thought, disgust and a hint of sorrow in the mix. Hatred absorbed everything, his hands burning with the urge to exact his revenge on this unassuming bitch.

"Pleased with yourself, are you?" he appeared, shutting her mouth and applying pressure to her wrinkled throat. It was a strange and unpleasant tactile experience, fueling his disgust. "You couldn't just mind your own business, could you? You had to keep _pressing_-!" he pushed down harder, her bones popping under his weight. "You should be thankful I'm not at my full capacity, _busu na babaa_. You get a relatively peaceful death."

He let go of her throat as she gasped for air and sat up. She was desperate and strained as Sasori pulled out a knife and severed her throat with a deft swing, cutting into her vertebrae. She slumped back in her bed, too slow to raise her arms to defend herself, as Sasori breathed in relief. That felt quite nice. Rhythmic spurts left rivers of red on his face and clothes.

He felt his body revel in the pervading scent of blood.


	7. Corticosteroids

**Chapter Seven: Corticosteroids**

"Tsukiko? Wake up."

Kyou was shaking her gently. She opened her eyes to his grey ones, alarmed when she realized the look of trouble on his face. He spoke before she could give voice to her concerns as she bolted up. "Don't worry, okay? It's nothing, but it's something. I don't want you to panic, I don't want to scare you, but you need to see this."

"What's going on?" she roused breathlessly, slithering out of her sheets in haste. He only shook his head, unable to describe it. He held her shoulder and led her out into the garden, her stomach twisting in anticipation. She was near-sighted, so she could only make out a strange white fluttering in the sun through the windows. As she walked closer, her heart filled with panic.

Someone had hung snowy paper notes everywhere and stuffed them in other places. As the wind picked up, they fluttered louder and pervaded the air with a sinister hiss. She cringed, realizing just how many they were and felt surrounded. Kyou sighed next to her and grabbed one of notes and showed it to her. "They all say this: 'STAY AWAY.' Do you know who might have done this?"

"No, I don't socialize at all." Tsukiko was apprehensive but took the note from him, "The envelope from yesterday had a message similar to this." Kyou looked angry and it struck her that he was late for work. "Kyou?" He furrowed his brow and she shrunk back.

"The landmines can wait. There's one more thing I need you to see." He placed his hand flat on her back and led her through the doors to the sacred tree near the pond. She squinted, making out a thing swinging about on its contorted branches. When she was finally close enough to see what it was, she took a step back and fought the urge to vomit. "We should call Nageki. Maybe he knows who did this."

"Why do you…?"

"Because of this note," he showed it to her. She returned her gaze to the thing in the tree-a waraningyo in her likeness hung by the neck. The air was sucked away as the message was internalized.

Sasori awoke to a rather interesting scene. The house was quiet and tasteless as always, but the horror in the back was entertaining. He reveled again, muscles relaxed after his kill the previous night. The air was ripe with a delicious torment as he enjoyed the fresh breeze for a moment. He mustered the patience to abide his roommates and sauntered over to the garden.

Kyou noticed him and approached, looking back to his family member. The brunette explained the situation as his cousin was motionless behind him, white sleeping gown swaying in the morning wind. Sasori fought a smile and only nodded, promising to be sensitive to the strange assault in his absence.

The male left for work, leaving Sasori and Tsukiko alone. The redhead approached her, "Are you alright?" He paused as something writhed between them, almost alive as it twisted into her bones. Tsukiko looked devastated and violated, almost paranoid. He wanted to taste it.

"As alright as I can be, I think. We should get started on your healing."

"Indeed, but-" she looked back to him and his stomach sunk with the look of misery. It struck him more than he anticipated, rendering him motionless for a moment. She seemed familiar with that face, her hair winding and twisting over her face. "Let's get out of here. This place is asphyxiating," he mustered.

They resumed the healing process in the public garden. Tsukiko seemed to relax in the familiar setting, the feeling of being watched dissipating with the tinkle dripping water. That look remained and Sasori's stomach flipping with each locking glance. What was so familiar about that look? Through his distraction, he felt the last of what needed to be healed float into nothing. She did well, despite her inexperience.

Sasori felt himself beginning to return to his former power, his chakra flowing like a powerful torrent as he clenched his fist. "Thank you, Tsukiko. I wouldn't have healed so well without you." She offered a weak smile in response, unable to see the irony. Still, there was more physical therapy to be done before he could return to his passion.

"I can help you with what remains of your physical therapy," she offered, brushing her hair to the side and tying it back. "It's just finer muscle movements. This routine will help you." She had him copy her, slowly correcting him and flowing into the poses and stature. Sasori was distracted by her appearance, his heart squirming as he realized why.

Each movement and smile from that point on shook him. He felt himself become pale as she carried on, oblivious to his horror. He needed to shake out of it and control himself, become blind to the familiarity and resemblance. This, more than anything else, convinced him that he needed to hurry with possessing her body.

"You know, I was a puppeteer," he began, ignoring her face as she looked to him. "I used to make them and set the standard for production."

"Is that why you're so nimble?" she giggled. Somehow, that naivety relieved him.

"Anyway, I would really like to purchase some supplies so that I may restart my passion. Is that alright?" The brunette nodded with excitement.

They headed into town where people crowded in cliques, gossiping about the previous night's thrill. Tsukiko seemed perturbed to begin with, but relaxed as it seemed the conversation would not assault her. Nageki found her on his patrol and approached the both of them, "Hey, Tsukiko! How are you? And… Um..?"

"Sorry, Nageki. This is Sasori, remember? I am well." Nageki nodded and properly greeted Sasori, having forgotten his name in all the focus on Tsukiko. Sasori tried not to be offended.

"Have you heard? That shopkeeper from the boutique was murdered." Tsukiko was frozen for a second before asking who could have done something so heinous. Nageki was at a loss for words, as disturbed with the crime as the rest of the village. Sasori was bored with the muddled panic.

Tsukiko and Nageki share some romantic tension, making Sasori squirm. Seeing something, Nageki told her to be careful and turned his attention to Sasori. His deep blue eyes seemed to pierce through him and see his true nature. The look on his face indicated a certain acknowledgement, but he softened and said, "I'm worried about her, so please watch over her in my absence."

Nageki resumed his patrol, leaving the pair to their errand. What was _so_ frail and special about this girl that everyone felt the need to micromanage her dealings? It was not because they thought she was incapable, that much was clear. Even Mamoru seemed terribly cautious, and he was an asshole. Sasori turned his attention to Tsukiko and he began to notice something interesting in her body language.

She was graceful, yet curled into herself, and even as she walked, her head was always turned downwards. As they made their way to the craft store, Tsukiko's gazes were always from a downturned angle. Her hands seemed to clench and extend as though they ached, fingers struggling to uncurl. Her gait struggled with simple steps, though they were somehow improved of what was surely her previous state.

What did all that mean?

The tools available were primitive, which added to his frustration. He took several of them, thinking of ways to modify them so that they could be of more use. As Sasori looked through the woods and preservatives, he felt the distinct impression that they were being followed. He tried not to alarm Tsukiko in fear of resurrecting her distress, but she felt it as well, shifting uneasily.

A pretty brown-haired, green-eyed woman approached. She was slender and taller than Tsukiko, and had a confident gait that made Tsukiko take a step back. She approached with power and spat at her with bared teeth, "Did I not tell you to stay away, or do I need to get serious?"

Tsukiko was intimidated and hunched back, confused and looking hurt by the sudden onslaught and proximity, "Wh-who are you?"

"Yamano Haru. Nageki-kun is _my_ boyfriend. Why are you flirting with him?"

"I-I didn't," she sputtered. "I didn't know he had-"

Sasori watched his prize as she was threatened, deciding to intervene in the next onslaught. He watched Tsukiko writhe, regressing to a protective bowed position that provided a "wall" between her and the offending woman. The distress returned with a vengeance as something brought her back to a more threatening time. He clenched his teeth and his fingers twitched as his anger was conjured.

"Well, now you do, "Haru spat, getting uncomfortably close to Tsukiko. "And we're serious, too. We'll be attending the Lantern Festival together. So if I see you getting in the way again, I'll-"

"You'll _what_?" Sasori said evenly, stepping between them and staring the woman down. Haru had not realized that Tsukiko had company, stepping back as he daunted her with his stature. Sasori had to laugh; she was hardly a threat.

Haru gulped but did not back down, glaring. "You don't want to know what I'm capable of."

"Likewise, little girl." Sasori added lowly between his teeth. "Now leave before _I _get serious."

Haru tried to look strong, meeting his gaze without breaking away for a while. Finally, the woman slithered away, heading in Nageki's direction with a huff and pound in her step. Sasori's eyes remained on her form as it became a small speck in the distance, a serpentine smile reaching him.

"Thank you, Sasori," Tsukiko murmured after a moment, "I really think I should have handled that a lot better." She walked to his side, fingers curled strangely against her collar as she ducked in embarrassment. "You've protected me a lot. You're like my Linnet."

Sasori was amused with the declaration and leaned back, "Linnet? What does that mean?"

"It's an old story Kyou used to tell me; just know it's a good thing."

Sasori forced himself to smile, "Tell it to me sometime." He led her home after his purchase with Tsukiko clinging to his arm. Between themselves, they agreed not to tell Kyou about the woman's verbal assault.

Kyou found them in the livingroom later that night. He was beginning to feel trapped with their constant presence. "You should go out… Like to that lantern festival coming in a few days!" He was trying to be subtle but failed miserably. Tsukiko laughed at first, but remembered what had happened earlier that day and her expression sunk.

"Actually, Nageki already has a date…"

Kyou looked confused and angry. "What?"

"No worries," Sasori smiled. "I'll take the little lotus."

The cousin paused a moment before he glared at Sasori, feeling suspicious of the man as he watched his cavalier body language and the strange regard he had for his cousin. Tsukiko needed someone to show her stability and this man had an odd way about him. Still, Tsukiko seemed to ease with his presence. Even if Kyou was becoming wary of Sasori, he needed her to feel safe. He eased up and left to make dinner.

Sasori and Tsukiko gathered around as he carved the block of wood. Tsukiko was in awe of his dexterity, though the puppeteer was annoyed with the lag from the lack of practice. He cut away and smoothed the material with a masterful eye, perfecting the flaws left behind by his rusted system. He added wires, springs, and coils to the mix and worked with the primitive tools to bring life where there was none.

"Wow! Were you a toy maker where you come from?" she asked breathlessly, rapt and eager in her attentions. Sasori noted that she had actually set down her textbook; organic chemistry. Tsukiko had such dry reading preferences.

"Not exactly," he smirked. "Why don't you ask about that, anyway? I have to imagine that my mysterious appearance and talents are of _some_ curiosity to a smart maiden."

"It doesn't exactly matter to me," she shrugged. "I figure that if you wanted me to know, you would tell me. Besides, you're respecting and acknowledging me as I am now." She smiled warmly and sat on her shins, hair fanning over her shoulder. "I really appreciate that."

Not that he had any idea what that meant or implied. "Of course. Now why don't you tell me about that linnet bird?"

Tsukiko laughed, looking concerned, "Oh, but it's such a silly story."

"Nonsense. I want to know why I'm suddenly your linnet." He leaned to her, growing curious about this odd tale, "Please?" He felt disgusted by the feel of the word on his lips.

Tsukiko blushed hard and looked down, "I'm really embarrassed, but this story helped me through some really hard times…

"The Lark was a captive little bird, perched in her cage all day. She dreamed of the moment she could outsmart her human captor and fly into the sun. All day, she would watch and wait for the opportune time as her human crooned for her to sing. But her spirit was strong and she refused, silent and alone as her hope died with the light each day.

"One day, the Linnet caught sight of her and flew down through the window. He pitied her and looked hard for a way to free her from her prison, but the cage was sealed. They became close and he visited her every day to sing her a song. It uplifted her, but her spirit waned as silence consumed her with the darkness.

"Months came and went and fall was coming fast. Song was dragging out of Lark, making her soul grey as the hope of escaping became a distant dream. Linnet tried his best to sing to her, but Lark was giving up.

"The days passed and the human became tired of the quiet, depressed bird in her cage. 'Sing now!' she yelled, hitting the cage hard and knocking it over. The notch opened and Lark fluttered out and escaped, tasting freedom as life returned to her heart. Lark joined the Linnet's song as they flew up into the light of day."

Sasori was speechless with the little fable as Tsukiko ducked her head, self-conscious for uttering such a childish story. He pretended to be flattered for being compared to a character who encouraged hopefulness, feeling suddenly uncomfortable with such a comparison. The sunanin tried to preoccupy himself with his puppet as he tried to sort this sick feeling.

Tsukiko straightened and her eyes darted to the window. "Is it strange that I've been feeling watched?"

Sasori's senses were beginning to refine as he noted that _something_ was just outside the door. The sound died in the room as both he and Tsukiko stopped, watching the stillness as something just on the other side rustled. Tsukiko looked to him pleadingly, unsure of what to think or do. He put his finger to his lips, eyes locked on the door.

_Knock, knock._

They waited, still as the grave to see whether there would be another sign. When there was no other noise, Tsukiko swallowed and stood and marched toward it. Sasori sensed something awry and stood, failing to stop her. She slid the door to the side, eyes cast straight before her to the void of night.

It was instants before Sasori grabbed her shoulders and pulled her away, eyes locking on the mangled corpse of the dog she had saved only days before.


End file.
